


Honestly

by MissCeliaKnight



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 16:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13884789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCeliaKnight/pseuds/MissCeliaKnight
Summary: An assignment was given to cast an honesty spell on your roommate. Simon thinks it brilliant, but when Baz ends up missing, he forgets about it almost completely until he's back. Simon's so anxious to know about where he's been that when he does cast a spell (or six) to get Baz to tell him, his magic does what Simon's magic tends to do.Too much.





	Honestly

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd.

**Simon**

Spellwork assignments have never never quite been my thing. There’s one we were given at the beginning of the year that was to go on for half the school year, and I loved the idea from the moment we were told what it was.

Truth spells.

They didn’t want everyone running around and spelling each other and turning Watford into a madhouse, so we were assigned partners of course. To make it even easier, we were assigned our roommates.

The truth we had to ring out of someone using a spell could be something simple like, ‘I haven’t washed the trackies I’m wearing in over a week’ or something more grandiose like, ‘I’m a vampire and am plotting to kill you right this very moment Simon Snow’. You know— the usual secrets. We didn’t have to say what they were, just how we went about getting them.

I was rather excited to be told exposing Baz as a vampire would allow me pass spellwork this year. However, the fact that Baz had been missing made my assignment rather hard.

Until he came back (at which point I remembered this was due).

And all I want to know was where he had been, why was he limping, why did he look so exhausted, was he alright?

I almost feel like… like I’m somehow taking advantage of a situation I shouldn’t be, even though it was a literal assignment. I consider backing out, letting him know beforehand and then just having him tell me something basic like he actually liked some of the music I played. But then I remind myself that given the circumstances, that would be stupid.

It’s best to take advantage of the situation before he can even put himself on guard for truth spells from me. There are so many clear counters to them that if I had been assigned Penny for example, it would have been rather fun.

We could have sat around with hot cocoa or something and gone back and forth with spells until I messed up or until we got bored and just spilled.

Although, there was the worry that I’d have to address that I genuinely am anxious about my current standing with Agatha— if there even was one. Seeing her stare at Baz the moment he got back the same way Penny insisted I was doing was gut wrenching. It made me realize that I’d need to protect myself from any truth spell  _ he’d  _ have to throw at  _ me _ .

Baz is so incredibly good at magic that he could probably be in the middle of insulting me and toss a damn spell in that would force me to say something stupid. He’d probably try to humiliate me as well.

So, I ignore him for a night rather than following him the way I usually do and spend it in the library, doing research I should have done the first day I was assigned this project. He came back— I knew he would. And I had wasted valuable time I could have been using to put up wards or something.

I feel… stupid. Even more so that I’m so deliciously tempted to have him honestly tell me if he’s alright over telling me he’s a vampire.

“For fuck’s sake…” I groan, pressing my hands to my face, none of the words in the book before me registering. I should just check it out and take it back to the dorm with me… but the last thing I need is him knowing what I’m doing.   
I should just wing it— it’s better to do it now than it is for him to get a moment to prepare, even if I do flub it. Besides, I’m likely to anyway, so this is better than nothing.

I’d do it tomorrow, possibly after class before he can leave. Maybe I can catch him alone and do it then.

Whatever works out best.

**Baz**

I have no idea what he’s doing.

He’s plotting something— or assuming I am, that much I’m sure of. He’s watching me, but keeping his distance like someone who’s scared a dog is going to bite them again.

It’d be amusing if I wasn’t so mentally and physically exhausted. I’m just not in the mood for Snow’s accusations and whatever game he’s currently playing at. Between trying to catch up on work and the trips down to the catacombs that leave me feeling more ragged than full, I just really wish all of that would vanish and Snow would be the only problem I have to focus on (He’s a joy to focus on).

When he hadn’t come back to our room after our classes, I half expect him to be in the catacomb entrance, just waiting to point his sword at me and accuse me of some shenanigans. But it’s almost crude to assume him that clever, (to assume he’d make steps in advance over following after mine) so I’m rather relieved when he’s not there. Then it occurs to me that meant he’s doing something else.

Given how he looks at me like he wants to rush across the room and strangle me for being gone as long as I was, it’s amazing he’s not attached to my heels right now. It’s peculiar. The only logical thing I can come up with is that Snow is planning something. Meaning in spite of my exhaustion, I’ll have to put my guard up against him as well. At the very least, I get to hunt and clean up in peace before going immediately to sleep.

Even so, I can’t fully will myself to sleep in spite of the exhaustion until I hear him bumbling into the room like a bear. I can’t rest until he stops making noise and finally settles into his own bed, obnoxiously wonderful curls poking out from his blanket while the rest of him curls up like a child.

**Simon**

I have no idea how to start initiating… whatever this is. Do I just start casting spells? Do I try to talk to him? I awkwardly sat on the edge of my bed, ready to go down for breakfast, quietly licking my lips while I fumble with words in my head.

“Well look at you— are you thinking for once? And  _ before  _ breakfast. Was I gone for so long that they replaced you with a Changling?” Baz is already taking jabs, adjusting his tie in the mirror without so much as looking at me. Well, he must have if he noticed, but is just being smug about it.

Ass.

“Sod off.” I snap at him, wondering if I should just start now over saving it for later.

“Clever today, aren’t we? All that thinking for two words— I’m astounded, Snow.” He turns around, giving me that annoying little quip of his mouth that’s a smirk. I want to punch him in that stupid mouth of his. His stupid.  _ Mouth _ . I glare at him and he sits there like a lounge cat, fat and happy and no longer in the mood to eat its prey.

“Would you just…” I huff, running a hand through my hair and tugging on it. I stand up, deciding I’ms already poor at new spells, let alone when I’m this flustered. It’s too early— I need to eat something.

**Penelope**

Simon is being a dingus. He keeps staring at Basil all throughout breakfast like a puppy who wants to be pet. He clearly wants to talk to him or say something and honestly I wish they’d just get it over with. Have a full on fist fight or dramatically recite poetry for Agatha’s hand or what have you. It’s annoying.

“...Simon.” I call, faking annoyance so he’ll tear his gaze away from Basil and actually chew the food in his mouth.

“Hm? What? I was listening.” He reassures as if I’d still been talking (I hadn’t once I realized he wasn’t focusing). It just further proved he hadn’t been listening.

“...Hey, did you spell Trixie yet?” He decides to ask, as if we hadn’t been talking about something else entirely.

“Excuse me?” I ask in confusion, Simon waving his hand up in the air as if to clear it.

“The um… the assignment, the truth assignment.” He clarifies.

“Oh— yeah, I did that on the first month we got it, Simon. We talked about this, remember? She told me she liked it when Keris—”

“Aaah, yeah yeah. Yeah she did, sorry, yup.” He interrupts. Good. Because I’d have to repeat that again. It’s more information than I care to know about her sex life. Thinking that she probably had sex on my bed when I was sleeping in Simon and Basil’s dorm is enough as it is.

“I just… I mean how did you go about it?” He asks, leaning forward as if someone would care to listen. “Did you work it into a conversation or just go for it?” I shrug, finally seeing what this was about. Basil and the truth. Always about Basil. Always.

“I spelled some chocolate, gave it to her and she gabbed away like we were old friends.” Simon leans back, eyes wide. He apparently hasn’t considered spelling anything and is clearly thinking about being so much more direct about it. “Simon—” I start.

“Do you think he’d eat something I gave him? He’d probably think I was trying to poison him… Do you think I could spell his tie or something? So when he wears it he has to tell the truth? I’m going to spell his tie.” He decides, shoveling food into his mouth as if to reward himself. I groan, already seeing the disaster unfold before me.

“Okay… but when he says the wrong thing to someone, he’s going to come for  _ you _ , you know.” Simon pauses, spoon halfway to his face.

“...You’re right. Shit.” He huffs, cussing like a Normal and putting his chin in his hand.

“Food was a good idea because it’s something that isn’t finite— you eat it, it’s gone, spell does it’s thing and then fades out or they cancel it out once they notice.” I remind him.

“Maybe if I spell the bathroom door handle or something…” He muses.

“That wouldn’t work either— every time you’d have to pee you’d be talking about how you’re not really going to piss but—”

“—Fair. Okay, fair.” He interrupts. “I wouldn’t be able to get a one off.” He sighs, nibbling on another scone.

“You know the assignment isn’t pass or fail if you can’t do it.” I remind him. “As long as you write about the effort you made and remember what spells he countered with, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Yes, it’s a guaranteed pass if you use a truth spell properly, but that doesn’t mean it’s a guaranteed fail if you can’t. Just give it a go, write the bloody paper.” I remind him, but already he’s not listening and staring at Basil again.

I catch Agatha staring at our table before she yanks her gaze away and decides to settle it on Basil as well. He doesn’t seem to care since I doubt there’s no way he doesn’t notice. I sigh, stealing the rest of the scone in his hand to eat it myself.

**Simon**

Penny has a point (she always has a point) and I hate it. But I don’t want to fail— I want to know where Baz has been. I want to know why he’s hurt. I already know he’s a vampire in spite of what anyone else thinks. I can find proof of that later, it’s easier.

But his disappearance? This I can’t let die out. It’s already some pathetic ember I keep blowing on as it is. But I want to know— that’s the point of a truth spell and the more I think about it, the more my head hurts.

Why can’t he just tell me?

I’m reminded of some Normal movie I saw once where they strapped some soldier into a chair and drugged him to make him tell the truth. I kind of wished I could strap Baz to a chair in general— get a good solid hit in, cast the spell (maybe strangle him when I’m done— maybe).

I don’t know.

And there’s the problem— I don’t know.

I’m stalking him down the hall back to our room (stalking like a predator, not like someone being creepy) and he stops before getting there. He turns on his heel and looks down his nose at me, and I stop a few feet away from him.

“...What, Snow?”

“What? I’m just going to our room.” I insist, keeping where I am.

“Right— after following me from my last class to the courtyard with my friends and now back here. Well, go on then— in you go.” He insists as if to call my bluff.

I swallow and take a few steps towards him.

“...You know it looked like you were limping the entire way here—”   
“Oh, not this again.” He heaves a sigh and rolls his eyes, lashes fluttering as he does so.   
“Yes, this again!” I catch myself snapping. “ **The truth will set you free** !” I end up casting it in the heat of the moment, even without my bloody wand pointed at him.

I watch his eyes grow wide, see his jaw lock up, and watch his adam’s apple bob.

“...Did you just…?” He hissed, forcing me to take a step back.

“Where have you been?” I demand again, deciding I won’t take another step behind me in spite of him leaning into my personal space. He looks like he’s going to explode— either from the spell or with anger. He whips out his wand and part of me is expecting him to start beating me with it. Instead, he points it to his chin and snaps in the same tone I used on him,

“ **Silence is golden!** ”

I groan, scrubbing my face with my hands.

“Why are you so—  **The whole truth and nothing but the truth** !”

“ **So help me god** .” He snaps back, a subtle counter but a counter all the same.

**Baz**

I’m frustrated.

Snow keeps casting truth spells on me like— oh. I see. This is what he was doing. He wants to know so badly he was researching this, was he? That important to know I was kidnapped by numpties?

Well he can go sod off because he’s not going to get anything out of me. I refuse. Even then, just because it’s the truth doesn’t mean it’s what he wants to hear. Just because it’s the truth doesn’t mean it’s the entire truth— or it wouldn’t have been if he hadn’t  **the whole truth and nothing but the truth** ’d me.

I swear even in spite of blocks and counters I can feel words nestling in my throat like I’m choking on them. I’m sure he can see it because he goes to cast another and I’m not sure if the next thing out of my mouth won’t be my tongue settling between his lips (and I’m not sure if it’s to stop him or simply because I’m that inclined to be honest).

" **Tell the truth or someone will do it for you** !"

" **The truth is rarely pure and never simple** !" He pauses, looking bewildered.

"What the hell was that?" he hisses in disgust.

" _ Oscar Wilde _ ." I snap back through gritted teeth, running a hand through my hair as if to correct it (like it won’t immediately falling back into my face). Even telling him that was like turning on a tap and smashing a hole in a dam.

I want to tell him everything; where I’ve been, how the thought of him kept me going, that I don’t expect to be the one to live once we surely have that final battle of ours, how I just want to shove him up against a wall and do things I barely got time to wank to during fifth year.

These truth spells are terrible and only make me want him more.

I want Simon Snow and the truth is quite literally choking me.

**Simon**

Baz drops to his knees, hand on his throat and gagging as if he’s a moment from vomiting. I feel my heart drop into my toes with worry that I might have seriously harmed him with my unstable magic.

I drop to my knees as well, with hands hovering over him (I’m scared to touch him— what if I hurt him?).

“Baz— Baz what’s wrong?” He violently shakes his head and I’m watching all of the blood rush to his face. He can’t breathe. Why can’t he breathe why— he’s choking. I’m watching thick splays of letters force themselves out of his mouth.

It’s an expression— but he’s quite literally choking back words because of spells I cast. He’s desperately trying to gather them up and I barely catch the first few letters of my name in one he snatches up and crushes between his long fingers.

It oozes around them, Baz trembling and me feeling useless.

“Just—  **talk to me** !” I demand and I can  _ feel  _ it before I hear the tone in my voice.

“...Snow I want to  _ murder  _ you right now this is so  _ painful _ !” He snaps at me, heaving for air as the words quite literally fly out of his mouth.

Well, there’s that.

He’s gasping, but it only lasts for a moment before he’s wheezing and can’t breathe again and I’m grabbing at his hand like it’ll do something.

“Baz,  **you have to talk to me** .” I meant it as a reminder, out of worry that he’d choke and keel over right here in the hallway. I didn’t mean to do it again, but I don’t know what else to do so I just let it happen. He’s not supposed to die on me like this— we’re supposed to have some stupidly epic battle, not because he’s bottling everything up!

“ **Use your words** .” I remind gently, a tone I remember so many using with me (with words  _ he’s  _ used with  _ me _ , if not in a condescending manner).

He vomits all over me, a mess of inky words and truths spilling out of his mouth and he can’t stop it, even if he wanted to. I feel his grip tighten on my hand and an almost desperate,

“ _ Don’t look _ ,” before more words spill out of his mouth.

**Baz**

_ Simon _

_ I hate him _

_ This hurts _

_ I want to strangle him _

_ Merlin and Morgana this hurts _

_ I’m embarrassed _

_ Why me? Why did it have to be me? (I know why it’s me) _

_ This hurts _

_ I hate him and I should have kissed him to shut him up _

_ I was kidnapped, it hurts to talk about _

_ ‘Fucking numpties’ _

_ My family refuses to talk about it— what I am _

_ Not just a damn vampire either _

_ I hate it and I hate myself for being like this _

_ This hurts _

_ Please stop looking at me like that I can’t handle it _

_ I’m angry with them for it _

_ I want them to tell me what’s wrong with being queer _

_ What’s wrong with me? _

_ Nothing’s wrong with me I’m just in love with Simon fucking Snow _

_ This hurts _

_ Please stop, Simon _

_ This hurts _

**Simon**

He told me not to look, but what else am I supposed to do? Everything is dancing in front of my eyes in a way that reminds me of sugar plum fairies. It’s everything I wanted to know, to hear, and more than I probably should have.

In love… with… I quietly glance down at him, his hand barely able to grip mine while he’s just given up on trying to hold anything back by this point. The word vomit keeps coming and I keep staring despite him begging me not to.

He’s hurt. I hurt him. What do I say— what kind of spell? What do I— I mumble a spell to myself and I know I’m not allowed to feel guilty about it given what I just did to Baz.

I press both sides of his face between my hands and kiss him.

**Baz**

“... **First kiss will break the spell** .” He cheated a spell by not saying the ‘true love’ bit, but 

That should be the least of my concerns.

I feel like everything in my chest has been hollowed out with a melon scoop and it makes me feel numb and exposed. Everything is throbbing and hurts and I feel like the first time coach punished the group and made us run around Watford seven times without stopping.   
My mouth tastes like ink (and now sugar because of whatever Simon ate). All I can do is gasp quietly, black ink sitting on his lip when he pulls away, looking like he’s moments from tears when really it should be me.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry Baz…” He apologizes, kissing me again and I’m so terribly upset that I can’t even register that he’s kissing me. I feel empty. All I can do is quietly gasp into his mouth while he kisses me like it’ll fix everything.

I really wish it would.

_ I really wish this kiss would fix everything, but I know it won’t _

_ It’s not that simple _

I feel a few more words spill out of my mouth and I swear I’m trembling like I’m completely devoid of heat.

**Simon**

I’m scared to move him. I don’t know what to do with the words outside of our dorm door. Will they come clean? Will they stain? I don’t want them to stain. I already hurt Baz. It would just hurt him more if others could read these.

“Can you move?” I ask, whispering like more words will break the spell I cast and he’ll puke up more truths. He gives a numb shake of his head.

I desperately reach up and grab for the door handle, it opening for me while I try my best to get him inside. No one can see him like this (I’m ashamed, I’m embarrassed and I know that’s part of the reason I don’t want anyone seeing him).

I owe him. I owe him big time.

Enemies or not, this was… This wasn’t just trading blows, this was almost like… I feel like I violated him.

**Baz**

He apologized over and over and over and started crying. He’s cleaning the mess outside of the room. He’s been doing that for over an hour. He finally comes back in, the entire front of him covered in smeared words. I’ve just been sitting here. I don’t want to move. I don’t want anyone to touch me, let alone Snow.

He knows.

Simon knows.

Everything— not just where I’ve been. He knows it all. He knows about the tape recorder and my feelings about my family and how I feel about him and that I’m a vampire and queer. I’m everything the world hates.

So I guess I’m just sitting here expecting him to hate me too now.

The pity look he shot me before going into the bathroom is killing me.

**Simon**

I change my clothes and I fill up the tub for him.

“...Baz…” I start softly, kneeling in front of him and reaching for both of his hands. He doesn’t pull away and I know I messed up because he also doesn’t hit me. He’s still got a mess of inky words down the front of him.

Penny was right— I should have just tried and failed and written the damn essay about it. I… when have I ever actually hurt Baz? I’m trying to think about it and it’s mostly just me following him and accusing him and… and I feel terrible.

“...Can you stand? I can help if you can’t...” I’m whispering… I’m still scared. He’s quiet for a long moment. He’s not looking at me but at the wall.

His eyes lower to stare at me as if he just realized I’m here. He grips at my hands like he’s expecting me to tug away and spell him again.

“... **Honesty is the best policy** .”

**Baz**

I hate him (no I don’t). I want to kill him (no I don’t). So I spelled him. I want to know what he thinks. I want to know if I should fling myself off of a bloody bridge or burn myself alive. So I cast a truth spell on him like he did me.

I watch his jaw lock up, but he does this stupid thing with his lips like he’s debating if he wants to kiss me again before nodding like he understands. I don’t even know what to say. Where do I start?

“...Satisfied?” I manage, not as much hostility in my voice as I’d have liked. I sound too tired, too drained for it, so I just sounded hurt. I am hurt. But the less I look and sound it the better. So of course, this is terrible for me.

I watch his lips tremble.

“...Yes.” He manages. His hands are still in mine. He looks good… sitting there all genuflect like he owes me his life for what he just did.

“...Got what you wanted?”

“...Yes…”

I try to pull my hands away. I can’t ask him. I can’t do it. I don’t want to know— I can’t. I know what the answer is already and I just… I want to drown in the bath he has waiting for me.

“I don’t want to think.” He blurts out. “Thinking means addressing it and it’s easier to just do what I’m told since everyone and their mother has something to tell me to do. But I’m sitting here and thinking about how this is the first time I tried to do something on my own to you and this is what I do and it’s… fuck. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry I don’t have the right thing to say right now…” He’s blubbering and pressing his forehead to my hands.

I have a feeling he would have told me this, even without the spell.

“I should have known I’d end up doing something like that but honestly I was so fucking worried about where you’d been and who could have possibly hurt you that I was failing classes and missing you terribly even though I’d never say it. I brushed off the possibility that you were hurt somewhere because you’re  _ you  _ and I should have known better and looked for you but that would mean I’d have to own up to the fact that I don’t want you to be hurt and that I don’t want to hurt you so this is worse because I—”

He’s rambling. It’s… a lot. He looks up at me with these generic looking blue eyes and I catch myself sliding off of the bed to sit near him.

“I’m so stupid because the only thing I thought to do was kiss you to fix it and that’s terrible and probably was just an excuse to do it in spite of the situation which is just so much worse—” He’s still talking. Doesn’t he get tired? I’m brushing his hair out of his face.

“Especially because I feel like I took advantage of what I saw and I’m such a go with the flow kind of person that it's easier to do that than own up to the fact that if I’d sat down to think about it, everything with you is always an excuse to be with you— near you, I—”

I’m brushing his bottom lip with my thumb while he’s still blubbering.

“I don’t want to hate you, I never did because I like you and I wished from the start we could have been friends because I admire everything about you and I know it’s more than that but I’m scared because everyone is always looking at me and already thinking I’m the worst thing to ever have happened so the last thing I need is them sneering at me because I’m queer too—”

I kissed him.

“...I didn’t ask you all of that.” I remind, my lips brushing his.

“But you did— you did.” He insists, grabbing at the front of my shirt in spite of the inky words there. “I know you well enough to know even if you didn’t say it. You wanted to know… like how I wanted to know that you were okay… that I wasn’t just sitting here when I could have helped you—”

I kiss him again and can feel him inhale like he should have between all of those long winded, endless sentences. I knot my fingers in his hair and he’s gripping the front of my shirt. This.

This makes me feel a little less empty.

**Simon**

“I feel like my nose is in the way…” I blubber against his mouth and I can practically feel him roll his eyes. But he doesn’t pull away and neither do I.

I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about anything… I’ll do whatever he wants so he can go back to hating me as little as he did (he never hated me). Or maybe so he won’t kill me for what I just did (he hasn’t tried to hurt me since fifth year and never wanted to kill me).

“I’m grabbing at you because I’m scared you’ll shove me away and I need you and I don’t deserve to say that since I—”

“Snow, please…” He groans in annoyance, kissing me between my horrid guilt ridden rambles that aren’t actually apologies.

“You’re the one who spelled me.” I remind, the words coming out as if he’d cast a love spell and not a truth spell. “Fuck, I feel so damn guilty…” I manage, Baz yanking at my hair as if he wants me to stop.

“ **True love’s kiss will break the spell** .” He uses my spell from earlier (with missing words and all) and kisses at me again and my throat doesn’t feel as constricted (from the spell anyhow).

“I’m so sorry, Baz…” I apologize again, Baz tugging at my hair once more as if to shut me up.

**Baz**

He’s not sleeping. I can tell because his breathing is too even. When he’s asleep, it’s erratic or he turns over seventeen times or kicks the blankets off or nestles into them more. He’s awake and I can see him staring at me.

“...What?” I whisper softly.

“...Can we push the beds together?” He requests. I sigh and get up.

**Simon**

We haven’t talked about what happened yet. It’s been over two weeks and I’m sure everyone can tell something is off between us. Penny outright asked… I couldn’t tell her. I just sat there with my head lowered, making her worry.

Baz just looks so tired and I can’t tear myself away from him. I sat so close to him one day our legs were brushing up against the other and he didn’t even bother to hide it or tell me to move.

“...Alright?” He’d whispered as if I was the one who was hurt. I’d wanted to hold his hand, to coddle him and apologize. To cry all over him again.

“...Fine.”

Our beds are still pushed together.

**Agatha**

Baz rejected me. It was when closer to when he first came back, but now I’m starting to wonder if it’s something else. I got over it quicker than I expected to, yet a part of me is still hung up on it. So I’m staring at Baz like I’m expecting him to give me some big answer.

I’m staring at Simon like he’ll admit to knowing something I don’t since they’re roommates. I’m staring and staring and staring… and suddenly they’re sitting together. They never sit together (ever). They’re talking and looking like they’ve just got done crying every single time they even so much as glance at once another.

Someone did something.

I don’t know who, but Penny doesn’t either or she feels like she can’t tell me. But she also cast a worried look in their direction when I decided to ask her about it. A look like she’s expecting something to fall apart and she’s just waiting to catch the pieces. I can’t possibly ask Simon— not after I broke up with him and haven’t talked to him since. I did ask Baz— he brushed me off, of course.

But I’m staring… and something clicked into place today. I’m watching as Simon leans over to whisper something to Baz and reaches for his hand like it’s on instinct. I’m watching as Baz brushes his fingers over Simon’s while quietly replying to whatever it is he said. I’m watching as he pulls away and their hands separate and I don’t even think they know they did it but they’re sitting so terribly close it’s not like they had to pull that far apart.

I’m watching what I’m sure is them fall in love while being terribly hurt about something and I’m not sure what to do about it. So I’m just sitting here and watching them, waiting for something to fall apart and preparing to catch pieces the same way Penny is.

**Baz**

I don’t understand it— how he’s… so lost. How he was so unwilling to address how he felt that he’d much rather use the excuse of trying to expose me to follow me around than just say maybe he felt something for me. I’m no picnic in the sun either, but at the very least I was aware of what I was feeling for him. I may be aware it’s not fun to voice your interest in men when you are one, but I at least thought about it. It makes me wonder what else he’s holding back and won’t talk about unless it’s forced out of him.

I’m looking up effects and results from other truth spells, but it’s probably different when the Chosen One was the one to cast them repeatedly on you. It’s been noted that depending on the severity of the truth and if you’ve had to lie about it, it can leave you feeling a bit empty or full of regret, but will fade. Almost like you feel unfulfilled from being unable to say it yourself or to whom you want or don’t have anything else to substitute what was there.

“Snow.”

“Simon.” He corrects.

“ _ Simon _ ,” I say with a roll of my eyes and a hint of annoyance. I want to tell him I don’t mean it and that I’m doing it more out of habit than anything else (I don’t, of course). “We need to talk.” I decide, knowing he’s so damn scared of himself that he’s terrified of making any kind of move with me now.

He’s curled up against me or let me hold him, but we haven’t kissed again. He stands there, like walking into a room and forgetting what he was doing.

“Now?” he clarifies.

“Preferably.” I heave a sigh, he sits on the edge of our beds. I sit next to him.

**Simon**

This is it. He’s going to tell me something like he doesn’t like me anymore and would prefer if I dropped dead (or out of Watford). He’s going to say he can’t forgive me.

Or he’s going to demand I make it up to him (something absurd). He’s going to enslave me or something to prove I’m really sorry. He’s going to make me brand myself or something with an insignia that proves I’m his or something along those lines.

I’m anxious. I’ve been waiting for it. Waiting for the extremes of whatever it is we’d have to address.

I quietly take his hand in mine, brushing my fingers over his for a moment.

“I want…” He starts, watching our hands. “...To address whatever this is. I did some research and it’s not unusual for large secrets to make you feel like there’s a void from being pulled out with truth spells.” I wince. “So I want to talk about this… realistically.”

I don’t want to do that. I’m the Mage’s heir, his family hates the mage, so they hate me. Even if we try to make it work, it’s going to end badly. We’ll try and even if we want this, they won’t let it happen. Or they’ll think one of us is plotting against the other and there will be doubts. Or one side of this argument will try something without telling us and one of us will be hurt if not both.

No matter how you look at it, I’ve hurt him. I’ve exposed him and hurt him. I lean over so I can grip at his arm and hide my face against it.

**Baz**

It turned into an argument. Part of me was glad for that. We aired it out and a lot of me feels better. He’s right and brought up things I’d already thought about on dozens of occasions. In spite of that, he didn’t shove me away when I kissed him again (in fact he tugged me closer). He didn’t tell me he didn’t want any part of whatever this was turning into. He just felt like it would end badly… and I agree.

What else was going to happen? It’s why I didn’t want to tell him from the start, even when clear opportunities were there to fix our relationship to where it could at least be a friendship. I knew all of this already and we were discussing with raised voices that,

“No, I don’t want to bloody  _ leave  _ you!” and,

“Well I don’t want to  _ hurt  _ you!”

We talked about if we should keep this between us and expect it to quietly fall apart. We talked about if we were going to be open about it like fireworks that exploded and died in public view. Realistically, we ended up deciding to keep it between us and Bunce.

“...I won’t be able to hide it from Penny.” He explained, avoiding looking at me, but still keeping his hands in mine. Any of my friends or cousins should be kept out of it considering they’ll go and tell everyone and their mother’s mother.

I’m sure my family would think it some kind of elaborate plan…

“...You know this isn’t some elaborate plan to get to you… right?”

“What— no, of course not. How could it be? I’d… I mean…” He’d know. He’d have seen it.

I quietly stroked his cheek and stared at him for a moment. He closed the distance and kissed me.

This was the secret that would fill the void. The same secret that it had been before— that I loved Simon Snow. The only amendment to it was that he felt something back.

**Penelope**

“You’re  _ what _ ?” I hiss at Simon, keeping my voice low as the three of us sit together outside during lunch.

“Snogging. Dating. Making out. Been like two months now.” He clarifies with this awkward little smile I’d never seen him have with Agatha. Agatha, who’s sitting across the way like she doesn’t care about us or what’s going on (she does. It’s stupid, she should just come sit with us).

“Oh, bloody hell…” I grumble with a huff as I cross my arms. This explains whatever that weird air between them was, then whatever this mushy one is. “The rule still stands— no more than 30% of the conversations can be about Basil.”

“You talk about me that much?” Basil asks with a raised brow, Simon turning a deep shade of red.

“It’s not… I mean I didn’t—” He stumbles, Basil giving him this coy grin that makes me worried he’ll eat Simon alive. Still, it’s nice to see him looking less like he’ll collapse at any given moment now. He seems to be looking at Simon the way everyone else does stars or the moon.

“So what, uh… you know, prompted… this?” I motion to the both of them.

“Truth spell.” They both chanted, making me gag.

“Of course. Oh honey darling, I love you so much! Oh me too, my beloved undead sugar baby!” Simon finds me funny and laughs at it, Basil frowning and countering weakly with, 

“I’m not a sugar baby…” Which makes Simon laugh harder. Good. I’m glad he’s laughing, even if it’s a little forced. I’m sure Agatha isn’t going to be too happy about this when I tell her (since I’m bound to tell her), but honestly I’m glad. It makes all of their past interactions rather interesting to think back on now though. It also makes me worry for them.

Basil is clearly struggling with some kind of internalized homophobia that he seems unable to brush off completely and Simon is… Simon. He doesn’t talk, he just moves. And if he’s not careful, he’s going to make a wrong move that could hurt one of them if not both.

But for now, I’m happy they seem to be feeling better. I’m glad they seem to actually be able to  _ talk  _ to one another now. The snogging in front of me? Less so.

“Gross.” Basil gives me a sly grin against Simon’s lips before leaning over and kissing him again like he’s showing off (which he is). I glance over at Agatha and she’s eating her sandwich like nothing happened just now. I give her a little wave like I’m just now noticing her. She raises her hand back to me, but doesn’t get up.

So this is how it is.

“... _ Honestly _ .” I sigh.

**Author's Note:**

> This'll be fine, I said.  
> They'll argue and talk about being queer and then I'll make them bang or something, I said.  
> Fuck, I said.
> 
> Tumblr version:  
> http://missceliaknight.tumblr.com/post/173146484071/honestly


End file.
